


Whole

by charmed310



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed310/pseuds/charmed310
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what he says to Potter when he asks him to do the impossible. Potter, if anyone, understands what it is to want to be whole again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** ['That Picture'](http://alekina.tumblr.com/post/110998951140/he-wants-to-laugh-at-the-irony-he-really-does-as) is a work of and belongs to [alekina](http://alekina.tumblr.com/). The general non-profit, fair-use disclaimer for Harry Potter fanfiction and fanart applies.
> 
>  **Author's Notes** : Praevarus, I hope I made good with your wonderful prompt. I know it may not be as angst-ridden or as long as you wanted (and deserved!), but I hope it gets the spot. Thank you mods, as always, for hosting the fest and being so patient.

_Whole_

This is what he says to Potter when he asks him to do the impossible. 

Potter, if anyone, understands what it is to want to be whole again.

====*====

It’s dark in the room they’ve chosen to perform the first of the spells, save for the hovering, glowing ball just above his head. It’s the same room they’ve spent countless hours in preparing for this day. In the shadows, Draco can see the stack of books they’ve studied from and made notes in perched all over the tables and the sofa.

It’s going to be long; it’s going to be painful; it’s going to be horrible.

Draco can’t wait.

Potter stands before him, dressed in black robes, his wand in his hand, gently tracing the pattern of the snake and skull with the tip. Draco has removed his own robes and is down to his trousers and shirtsleeves, all in shades of grey. It makes him feel naked and vulnerable. 

He hasn’t been able to leave it behind, this part of his life. He still feels the burning, stinging, aching pain the Mark had caused from the day it had been placed upon his arm. He’d been so proud to receive it; finally, a way to prove to his father and mother that he was worth something. That he’d made the choice they wanted for him.

He feels the sting even more harshly now as Potter’s wand caresses his skin, almost lovingly. It scares him but he resists the urge to pull away.

‘Are you ready?’ Potter asks.

‘I am,’ Draco replies quietly, hoarsely. ‘Don’t stop, all right? Don’t stop until it’s over.’

‘I won’t. Take a deep breath and try to relax, all right?’

Draco does and holds his wand loosely in his hand at his side. Potter has told him he will need it as part of the spell, and Draco hopes he won’t use it to curse him if it becomes too much to bear. Any defensive magic used against Potter could kill them both in an instant.

Potter holds Draco’s arm in his hand and takes a deep breath himself. Words begin flow from his lips, words learnt by weeks of repetition beforehand. Draco has sat up with him nearly every night since he agreed to Draco’s request, going over the different segments of the spell so they both have it memorised.

It haunts Draco’s dreams, and he suspects Potter’s as well. Draco can’t imagine what this must be like for him, having spent his life fighting evil to now be faced with this. Draco knows that Potter feels he’s bitten off way more than he can chew. He knows Potter believes they will fail.

But it has to be Potter. He alone possesses enough goodness and light to cause a shift in the darkness that still lives in Draco. He alone has the power necessary for the spell to work and, that despite all that has happened between them, Potter doesn’t hate him.

The pain begins sooner than Draco expects and he grits his teeth against it, holding his wand tighter in his fist. It spreads hard and sharp through his veins and down to his very bones. He shuts his eyes, but that only makes it worse, and he opens them again.

Potter continues, and he holds Draco’s arm closer to him as the intensity of pain grows. Draco knows it’s the best Potter can do to offer support, but he wants to turn and run.

The holly and phoenix feather wand traces the pattern of the Dark Mark as Potter repeats the words of the spell and it feels like an iron brand, over and over again. Draco hopes his skin will go numb, but it doesn’t.

He finds a spot at Potter’s shoulder where the black fabric of his robes is torn and focuses on it. It doesn’t help, and it’s all he can do to keep from screaming as the pain continues to bloom in waves upon waves over his body.

Thoughts swirl through Draco’s mind; memories of the times before he received the Mark, when he was a child and he first saw the ugly faded tattoo upon his father’s arm. Lucius had hidden it very quickly beneath his sleeves and pushed Draco out of the room.

He sees himself in the library at the manor, looking up this Dark Lord his father sometimes speaks about in company. He knows his father says that he no longer supports the Dark Lord, but Draco is intrigued and wants to learn what he can before he goes off to Hogwarts.

A wave of pain so strong nearly brings him to his knees, but Potter manages to hold him steady. 

‘The first stage is over. You’re doing really well, Malfoy. Stay focused,’ Potter whispers.

He wants to feel relief, but there’s still such a long way to go... 

He does nothing to wipe away the tears that trickle down his cheeks.

Potter begins his spellwork for the next stage, and instantly Draco screams from his clenched jaw. His arm is _writhing_ now; it feels like dozens and dozens of snakes are wriggling through him, their fangs sinking into him, their poison burning him from the inside out. He wants to crawl out of his own skin. Anything to get rid of this sensation.

‘Stop! Potter, stop!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Potter says. ‘I’m sorry it hurts.’

‘ _Fuck_. I can’t do this anymore!’ Draco screams at him.

It’s then he feels it. Draco cries out in agony as the pain erupts through his flesh and the Dark Lord’s face appears before his eyes, exactly as he was when Draco took the Mark ten years earlier, snake-faced, menacing and hideous. Fear lances through Draco and his world disappears in darkness and high, cold laughter.

‘Stop!’ he cries. ‘Please.’

Vaguely, he hears Potter croon words at him, but he can’t register what they are through the pain. Somehow, it helps and he forces himself to stay where he is. 

More memories follow; he sees himself cowering as the Dark Lord’s rage falls upon them, he sees the teacher, Professor Burbage, suspended over his dining room table where he had once shared many a pleasant meal. He sees Nagini and he screams as Professor Burbage does.

Then the pain is gone. 

Both he and Potter are in a sweat, and his legs are shaking beneath him. He stumbles forward but Potter catches him and sets him on his feet again.

‘Nearly there,’ Potter says quietly. ‘We can do this, Draco.’

Draco is surprised by the use of his first name and he stares at Potter. He can see the exhaustion in Potter’s eyes behind the round lenses of his spectacles, and the greyish tinge to his skin. He _feels_ his sacrifice.

Despair fills Draco’s thoughts. How could he have asked Potter to risk his life this way? He’d been so selfish. 

‘Potter, stop,’ he says again.

But it seems Potter can’t speak to him and he shakes his head.

They must go on.

Draco still feels the snakes writhing in his arm, and he hears Potter hiss angrily. Bright jade green light erupts from his arm with a scream that’s not his, and he turns his head to look at his arm.

‘No!’ Potter shouts, and he’s forcing Draco’s face in the opposite direction, his fingers splayed over the back of his head to keep him from turning again. Draco stares at the floor to where the sweep of Harry’s robes lies at his feet.

Pain stabs at Draco’s arm again and he groans through his teeth. He wonders why Potter doesn’t want him to look. Is it because the spell has indeed failed? Is it because his arm is even more grotesque than it was before? He should have set fire to himself when he’d had the chance, but he’d been too much of a coward.

‘Malfoy, your wand,’ Potter says. He’s breathless with concentration, and can barely form the words.

Keeping his gaze to the ground, Draco hands over his wand, and Potter speaks again in words he can’t himself understand.

There’s a sharp flash of light, a howling noise and then he and Potter are flung apart by a cloud of thick acrid smoke.

Draco lands somewhere near the couch and he can’t breathe. His head is throbbing and he can see only smoke. His vision blurs and eyes close while his left arm burns and smoulders on.

====&====

It’s Christmastime and the square is full of lights, giggling children and music.

Draco sees Harry pushing through the crowd, laughing at the children who run into his path, chasing each other with snowballs, and Draco smiles.

He looks around for a moment before his gaze settles on Draco and he smiles too.

He makes his way over and Draco reaches out to pull him into his arms and they kiss, with cold noses and chapped lips. It’s enthralling.

The noise of the square fades away as Draco pulls back slightly and stares into the green eyes that spark with happiness.

Harry often says he wishes that they hadn’t failed; that he had practiced more; that Draco could be free, but Draco shushes him.

‘I doesn’t matter anymore, Harry. You’re the one who makes me free. You’re the one who makes me whole.’

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very welcome. You may leave them here or over at [Livejournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/88690.html).


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